


spice and motion

by palmcitrus



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Hair-pulling, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Shotgunning, Spit Kink, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, anyway I think these two fucked before they dated, d slur once but it’s not used as a slur, the alcohol kind, unless u count a little sprinkle of feelings as plot, well. arguably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmcitrus/pseuds/palmcitrus
Summary: “Oh, you’re one to talk about stereotypes,” she retorts, grinning through her fake indignation. “Little miss lip piercing, enamel pins, combat bootsin the summer—”“Alright, alright, I know, I’m the world’s most predictable dyke—”“Not to mention the blue hair,” Georgie finishes, and reaches up to tuck a cobalt-dyed strand behind her ear.Melanie’s words stumble to a halt in her mouth.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 20
Kudos: 189





	spice and motion

“Let me get the dishes,” Melanie says, and picks up her and Georgie’s plates as she stands from the table. “Don’t try to help me. You cooked.”

“Yeah, but you’re a guest,” Georgie protests, though she’s notably allowing Melanie to do them anyway. “And you’re supposed to be de-stressing from work.”

“I’m plenty de-stressed,” Melanie says. “If anything, slacking off while you cleaned would be the thing to stress me out more. Although...I wouldn’t protest to another beer, if you’ve got any.”

Georgie stands, brushes herself off, and pulls two bottles out of the fridge. “I’m out of the normal kinds, but I’ve just bought half a dozen new flavors of some craft brand they only sell at the fancy markets. Not that I shop at the fancy markets, mind you, but I’ll take whoever’s bored enough to come with me there sometimes to people watch, make fun of anyone who buys the rich-people artisanal waters.”

Melanie snorts out a laugh. “Thanks.”

She places them both down on the coffee table. “Now, I haven’t tried these yet,” she says, raising her voice a little so she can hear her from the kitchen, “but these are supposed to be good.”

“Oh, they’d better be,” Melanie calls back jokingly, “or this’ll have to be my first and last time at the Barker residence.”

It’s Friday evening, and she’s just gotten back from a very frustrating two days of shooting at the reportedly very haunted Anselmi House. Toni had gotten food poisoning the day before, and Peter’s sound equipment had stopped working for a few hours in the middle, meaning they lost a lot of time and good footage that Melanie thinks could have been tweaked into some nice evidence of the spectral housewife named Caroline who was supposed to live there. 

She’d been venting to Georgie on the way back, who had texted back, _Wanna come over later tonight? Sounds like you could use a night in,_ and the snappish, irritated exhaustion had melted into a relieved anticipation. She’d showered and headed over feeling better than she had in two days. 

Georgie and Melanie aren’t especially close yet, but they’ve gotten along fantastically so far. _Yet,_ she notices herself thinking, implying that it’s inevitable, or at the very least something she wants. And it is. Georgie’s bright, and funny, and she’s got a wide smile and _killer_ thighs, if she’s being honest—

And she is _not_ going to think about it further than that, thank you very much, because they’re _new friends_ and _it’s just winding down after a stressful week, like friends do,_ and _you’ve just been single a little too long, it’s nothing._

“Oh, by the way,” Georgie calls out, “I’ve already done an episode on the Anselmi House, and I’m almost positive that that Caroline lady was just playing a very unfunny prank on her husband.”

Melanie grins.

  


  


“Oh, this one’s actually pretty good,” Melanie says, rolling the beer around on her tongue a little. It’s got a bit more spice than she’s used to, and she likes the way the taste changes in her mouth. The alcohol is maybe starting to sink in a little. 

“Lucky,” Georgie grumbles, settling into the couch next to her. They’re each on their third, now. “Mine tastes like piss.”

“Well, that’s your own fault. You chose to take the light one, after all.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Really. I invite you into my home, feed you, entertain you, and this is how you repay me? You Southerners have no manners, I swear.”

“Oh, that’s no fair, I totally do,” Melanie protests.

“Well, I didn’t hear a thank you for the good beer,” she replies, with a teasing tilt of her head.

Right, that’s fair, she concedes. She waves a hand. “Thank you for the beer, Georgie. And the dinner. Really. It was good. I—I needed this.”

“Course,” she says with an easy smile. “I’m glad you came.” She goes to take a drink, pushing her curls back from her face. 

Cute, Melanie thinks, unbidden. _Christ, you fucking lightweight._ “Yeah, well. I wanted to finally see your place.”

Georgie raises an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Melanie catches the hint of suggestiveness in her words, and slaps Georgie’s arm in fake-admonishment. “Oh, not like that—look, you invited _me_ here, don’t go turning the tables.”

“I did indeed,” Georgie hums, and Melanie just watches her for a moment, documenting the telltale sparkle of tipsiness in her eyes, noting that she probably has it too. Maybe Georgie sees it, and that’s why she’s still looking back at her, and neither of them are looking away. 

They had started on opposite sides of the couch, but as the drinks went on, they’d unconsciously started drifting closer, and, well—they’re really quite close, now, Melanie can’t help but notice.

Melanie startles and breaks the moment when a soft weight suddenly climbs up onto her crossed legs. There’s a cat, black and white with big green eyes, staring up at her. 

“Oh, hello, Admiral!” Georgie’s voice goes into that endearing high-pitched pet-talking range. “Melanie, meet the head of the household.”

“This is a flat, not a house,” Melanie says dryly, but reaches down to pet him behind the ears anyway. “Nice to meet you, Admiral.”

“Looks like he likes you.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. Since he apparently runs the place.”

She looks up to see Georgie watching her, a tiny, thoughtful smile on her face. Melanie snickers to herself. Georgie squints.

“What, are you more of a dog person?”

“Oh, no, I’m not complaining, he’s wonderful, very soft,” Melanie says. “It’s just—you’re a bit of a stereotype, aren’t you? Flannel-wearing vegetarian cat owner?” 

Georgie lets out a big, warm laugh, and when her head drops forward, she’s nearly close enough to rest it on Melanie’s shoulder. Her chest skips a little.

“Oh, you’re one to talk about stereotypes,” she retorts, grinning through her fake indignation. “Little miss lip piercing, enamel pins, combat boots _in the summer—_ ”

“Alright, alright, I know, I’m the world’s most predictable dyke—”

“Not to mention the blue hair,” Georgie finishes, and reaches up to tuck a cobalt-dyed strand behind her ear. 

Melanie’s words stumble to a halt in her mouth.

For a moment, neither of them move, save for the slight flickering of their eyes, locked on each other. Georgie’s fingertips are still traced behind her ear. Her palm just barely brushes her jaw. 

She’s so close, Melanie thinks. And her hair smells like coconuts, and her mouth looks so soft. It would be so easy to just—

Then the grin on Georgie’s face widens, and she pulls her hand away. She winks, and turns to take a long drink from her bottle. 

Melanie stays frozen for a second, watching her throat move, until she manages to tear her eyes away. She places the Admiral on the floor just to have a moment to hide, all too aware that her face is probably burning.

 _Fucking lightweight,_ she thinks, but she knows it’s not the alcohol. 

The Admiral gives an indignant meow at being snubbed, then runs off toward the hall. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby about it, you little bastard,” Melanie says after him. 

Georgie gestures in his direction. “Like I said, no manners.”

“Oh, unfair!” Melanie protests. “I’m plenty polite. That cat’s the real culprit, just you see.”

She rolls her eyes. “If you were polite, you’d share the good beer with me,” she says, challenging, and Melanie’s eyes flicker from her hand wrapped around her beer to the soft broad curve of her shoulder to her gorgeous, playfully smirking mouth, and alright. _Alright._ The alcohol has worn her down enough to admit it. She wants her. Badly. 

Something flips in Melanie’s gut.

 _Don’t,_ the reasonable part of her thinks. _You’ve just become friends, she’s not going to want this, she just invited you over for dinner and some drinks—_

But she had given her that soft smile. And drifted closer to her. And touched her hair like that. 

“You could come and get some,” she says, and she doesn’t take her eyes off of Georgie as she very purposefully takes a long, drawn-out swig, and doesn’t swallow.

Georgie stares at her for a few seconds, blinking in surprise, and Melanie hesitates in fear that she’s miscalculated. Then something in her eyes suddenly turns hungry, and she puts down her beer, grabs Melanie by the back of the neck, and kisses her.

For a few seconds, she keeps her mouth closed, just savoring the feeling of Georgie’s ridiculously soft lips pressing against hers—like, shockingly soft, how are anyone’s lips that soft, really?—and then Georgie’s tongue is there, and yes, that’s good—and she presses the little bit of liquid forward, between their slightly opened mouths.

Georgie accepts it, not breaking contact, and Melanie can feel it when she swallows it down, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She’s smiling too—she wants to break away so she can laugh, but she knows it’s a reflexive, embarrassed instinct to distract from how strangely hot that was, and more than that she wants to keep kissing her. Distantly, she puts her own beer down on the table. She can feel a drop on Georgie’s chin where it’s escaped, and before she can overthink it she moves to lick it up, her tongue never breaking contact before landing back at her mouth.

Georgie does let out a huff of a laugh at that, but then her other hand is gripping at Melanie’s waist, pulling her in harder, and it’s really more of a moan, then.

They kiss for a while like that, facing each other on the couch, before Melanie doubles down, biting down lightly on her bottom lip. This earns her a noise of pleasure that she really feels more than hears, and the hand tangled in the hair at the back of her head suddenly curls into a fist, pulling her head sharply back. Melanie tried to stifle the noise this elicits from her, and mostly fails. 

Georgie stares at her for a second, the hunger in her eyes gone even wilder, and then she lets out a laugh and says, “You were right. Good beer.”

Melanie blinks, grins back, and says lowly, “Say thank you,” before pulling her forward by the collar to crash their lips back together.

She must have put more force behind it than she realized. Her motion ends up pulling Georgie’s whole body forward, and Melanie lets herself fall onto her back as she lands on top of her with a little surprised noise. The contrast of Georgie’s solid stature against her own tiny, lithe one is _really starting to show_ as she presses Melanie down into the cushions, and the way she kisses—deep, firm, exploratory—is so intoxicating that Melanie barely notices she’s shifting her position until a thigh presses up in between her legs.

Her mouth falls open in a gasp at the pressure, and a shock goes through her body. “Georgie,” she groans, sounding breathless already.

“Is this okay?”

“ _Yes,_ yes—”

Georgie tugs again on her hair, which sends a second spark down her spine and then down some more, and her hips grind up against Georgie’s muscular thigh on instinct. She hears herself whimper.

“Thank you for the beer,” Georgie hums sweetly, and places a single kiss on Melanie’s neck.

“Bed,” Melanie gasps. “Can we—” she pulls away a bit. “I mean, if that’s what you—”

“It is,” Georgie says, and kisses her hard one more time before saying, “Yes, yes, let’s go.” She slips her hand into Melanie’s and pulls her up, then leads her through the hall.

Once they make it to the bedroom door, Melanie laughs. The Admiral sits on the floor, looking expectantly up at them.

“Oh, you sneaky man,” Georgie says, also laughing, and pulls her hand away to scoop him up. “Let me go put him up, give me a second.”

Melanie takes the opportunity to flip on the lamp and look around. Georgie’s bedroom is clean but clearly well lived-in. Her laptop and a small pile of papers are set up neatly on the desk, the decorations are warm and comfortable, and the queen-size bed looks soft and inviting.

She sits on the bed, and watches with amusement as Georgie returns and closes the door behind her. “All ready now,” she says, and something in Melanie’s stomach inexplicably flutters.

And then they both pause, staring, and wait to see who moves first.

Melanie decides that she might as well be the one. Slowly, she shuffles back into a kneeling position in the middle of the bed, and unbuttons her shirt. When she’s done, she pulls it off her shoulders, and drops it off the side of the bed. 

She watches as Georgie inhales quietly, her eyes flickering down to her bare stomach, her chest, and then back up to her eyes. Just as slowly, she pushes her weight off of the door, and one by one pushes each button through the holes of her own flannel. She shrugs it off and lets it fall. 

Every new inch feels more thrilling to look at. Where Melanie is lean and toned, Georgie is big and soft and rounded; she traces her eyes over her purple bra, her smooth dark skin, the rolls that spill over the top of her tracksuit bottoms. That in particular makes her mouth water. 

She makes eye contact again, and reaches around to unclasp her bra, lets it fall off her shoulders. Georgie does the same.

Melanie smiles, feeling both more on-edge and more confident by the second. She reaches down to the button of her shorts, then quirks an eyebrow as if to say, _You sure?_

Georgie gives her a look that would say _What does it look like?_ if it weren’t also so intensely eager. Melanie shivers a bit under the attention, then flicks the button out. She pulls the zipper down slowly, and pushes them off her hips, sitting back to remove them all the way and then kneeling back on the bed. Georgie is already taking her own bottoms off and stepping out of them, leaving both of them in just their underwear. 

They both stare for a second, adjusting to the thrilling, greedy feeling of watching and being watched, and then Melanie decides she needs to touch her.

“Come here, God,” she rasps, and Georgie does.

She still has the flavor of that fancy dark beer on her tongue—sharp and just a hint of something spiced—and it tastes better this way, through someone else’s mouth, Melanie thinks. She runs her hands down Georgie’s torso, feeling the divot of her collarbones, the ample swell of her chest, and that delicious soft pudge of her lower stomach. Her fingers tease the top of her underwear as she moves to grasp at her hips.

Georgie is busy exploring Melanie, too. She roams over the lean muscle of her abs and shoulders, palming softly at her admittedly less-than-handful tits. When her hand drifts up to her neck, Melanie sucks in a breath, even just that brush of sensation sending an anticipatory heat down below. She’s painfully aware of how wet she must be by now.

“Sensitive neck, then?” Georgie asks with a teasing smile.

“Shut up,” Melanie says back, moving her hands back up to her chest. “What about you, then?” She grins when Georgie’s mouth parts in a gasp as she thumbs over a nipple. “Ah, there it is.”

She ducks her head down, taking one in her mouth and tonguing over it, reveling in the way it makes Georgie’s hands dig harder into her skin. She’s always appreciated a firm grip.

After a minute of soft, high-pitched little noises, Melanie chances grazing over it with her teeth. Gasping, Georgie grabs her by her hair, which causes another involuntary groan and wave of heat in her groin, and pushes her down into the bed. “You first.”

Melanie’s hips thrust up, looking for friction, and Georgie moves to press her lips to her neck. She tries her best to still herself when Georgie goes to tug off her underwear. 

“You’re so wet,” she says, almost reverently. Her hand moves down, finally brushing her fingertips against Melanie where she’s dripping and sensitive, and even the minuscule contact is electric. She lets out a desperate, very vocal moan as her hips buck up again, reaching for more. 

“Loud, aren’t you,” she remarks, teasing, and Melanie would retort back but unfortunately she does nothing to disprove her point when she pushes one finger in.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” she groans, her hands flying up next to her head. She twists her fingers into the sheets. 

Georgie runs her free hand up and down her torso while that one finger rocks in and out, achingly slow. “You look so good like this,” she says, resting her palm gently against her collarbone, stroking her thumb casually over her pulse. “Everything about you is so hot, you’ve got no idea.”

“Is it— _ahh—_ ”

Georgie pulls out almost all the way, then slides another finger in next to it. Melanie groans at the new stretch. “It is,” she says. “The way you move is fascinating, always so intentional. It’s like you always know exactly what you want.”

She leans down to kiss her, and Melanie writhes her hips against her hand. 

Bent over her like this, Melanie can feel Georgie’s bare stomach pressing against hers, and all that warm skin is just so nice it makes her want to bury herself in it. If she ever lets her, Melanie’s going to press her face into the softness of Georgie’s belly the first chance she gets.

“Do you know exactly what you want now, Melanie?” Georgie says, voice still teasing and attentive. “Do you want more? You want to come on my fingers?”

When she quirks her fingers, pressing slightly up, Melanie’s mouth opens in a moan, back arching. Georgie moves to kiss the spot under her ear. “You _are_ loud,” she hums, her voice dropped lower than usual. “That’s good, I like hearing you. Your voice sounds so sexy, turns me on to hear you moan, you know that?”

“Georgie,” Melanie groans, and reaches up to press her fingers into her back. 

Georgie may look soft, but beneath all that softness she’s distinctly and deceptively strong, a fact which is affecting her more than she expected as she feels the shoulders of her muscles move. Being pinned underneath that weight is making her squirm in the best way. It’s too easy to imagine Georgie using all that muscle to hold her down, or spread her against a wall—but maybe later. Right now, even just the steady back-and forth is almost too much to bear. 

“Want another?” Georgie asks, her voice rougher than it had been. 

Melanie considers it, but she knows where her limits usually lie. She shakes her head. “This is good,” she says. “Just keep— _ohh_ —keep—”

With a grin that Melanie thinks is maybe supposed to be cocky but mostly just comes off as eager, Georgie twists her hand and presses her thumb to her clit, and with just that one firm stroke Melanie is arching off the bed and coming with a shout. 

Georgie doesn’t let up as she does, thrusting her hand through it, and after a bit Melanie squeaks and digs her nails in harder, overstimulated. Georgie stops moving but groans at the sensation. 

“Sorry about that,” Melanie says, rubbing what she hopes is a soothing hand over the scratch marks. 

“Don’t be,” Georgie says. She pulls her fingers out and rests her elbows next to Melanie’s head, who gasps a little at the loss. “They—it was nice. I liked it.”

“Into a bit of pain, huh?” Melanie says, giving her a teasing grin. 

“As if you couldn’t tell,” she snorts, then leans down to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Wanna go again?”

Melanie shakes her head. “Your turn,” she says, then grabs Georgie by the hips and flips them.

Georgie, apparently not expecting the sudden display of strength (she does work out, okay), blinks below her. “You sure? I really wanna make you come again.”

“Fine, but I wanna make you come first,” Melanie says. “If that’s okay.”

“Fine with me,” Georgie says. “I’m usually only good for one, though, just letting you know.”

“I’ll make it a good one,” she promises, and bends down to kiss her.

She really could get distracted for hours by that mouth. She indulges in kissing her thoroughly for an indeterminate amount of time, one hand propped up on an elbow next to Georgie’s head and absently petting her hair, the other sliding slowly across her torso. She likes the feeling of Georgie’s soft belly straddled under her thighs. 

She breaks the kiss, but wastes no time moving down her jaw, under her ear, the side of her neck. She chooses a particularly soft spot and sucks.

Georgie gasps under her, her hands briefly tightening on her waist. Melanie keeps working the spot, dragging her teeth over it, and Georgie’s hands drift down to her ass. 

“Th-that’s good,” she says shakily. Melanie hums. 

Once she’s satisfied, she pulls away, and kisses her way softly down the center of her chest. One of Georgie’s hands moves back to her hair, not pulling, just holding. 

Melanie bites down on a spot near her nipple, and the hand in her hair tightens. They both moan at the same time. It’s not going to take long once it’s Melanie’s turn to go again, she thinks, but it’s not time for that now. 

She swings one leg off so she’s no longer straddling her, and with a little bit of readjusting, she moves herself between Georgie’s legs. Georgie watches her and breathes heavily. 

“Please,” she says, sounding hoarse. 

Melanie slides her hand down the soft expanse of her belly, moving past the patch of hair and lower, lower. She’s not surprised by what she finds, but the actual sensation of it makes some dark hunger spread like ink behind her ribs. 

She’s wet, so wet that it’s spread down, making the creases of her thighs slippery. Melanie runs a light hand through the spot of moistness on her skin and is rewarded with the most distinct, high moan she’s heard from Georgie all night. 

She glances up. “I haven’t even really touched you yet,” she says, just a hint of amusement seeping into her voice. 

“I’m _aware_ of that, you tease,” Georgie says, though any snap the sentence might have had is somewhat tempered by the fact that her voice slides into a whine every time Melanie drags her fingertips over the soft skin of her inner thigh. 

Melanie likes her voice. Likes the way her Scouse accent starts to slip out when she’s not paying attention.

She grins, watching her face, and continues the small ministrations. Georgie’s feet press into the bed like she’s working hard to keep still. Melanie’s a bit shocked by how responsive she seems to be to light touches—her own skin isn’t so sensitive, she usually prefers a firmer hand, but Georgie seems to respond well to the teasing. 

“Touch me, _please,_ Melanie,” she finally groans, after a few more passes of her hand up and down her thighs, growing closer to her core and then drawing back again. 

“Oh, is that what you wanted? You could have just asked,” Melanie says, giving an utterly unconvincing expression of innocence. 

“I just did, didn’t I? And I said please,” Georgie says. Her chest rises and falls more quickly, now. 

“I suppose you did,” Melanie murmurs, and moves one index finger to the bottom of her entrance, moving up, slowly, through where she’s wettest. She only presses in to the first knuckle, gathering it on her fingertip. Georgie whines, and her hips twitch. Melanie can hear her twist her hands in the sheets. 

Melanie moves her finger away slowly, watching as a single connecting line stretches away with it. When it breaks, she looks Georgie in the eye, and closes her lips around the finger.

Georgie is still with anticipation, just watching her and breathing heavily. “Melanie,” she whines, and she pushes herself up to kiss her. 

It’s quick, just a press of open mouths together _(God her lips are so soft)_ before Melanie pulls back and says, graciously, “Whatever you need.”

She shifts back down and settles her head between Georgie’s open legs. She presses her mouth to that same soft sensitive spot on her inner thigh, licking up the wetness she had run her fingers through before. 

“And you did share your good beer with me,” she murmurs, using two fingers to spread her open. Finally, _finally_ , she presses her flattened tongue to her and takes a long, slow lick to the top, and watches as her mouth falls silently open. 

“Delicious, it really was,” she continues, not even really pulling away, just speaking against her, and then she closes her eyes and starts moving her tongue. 

“ _Fuck,_ Melanie,” Georgie groans, and it turns into a vocal gasp when Melanie moves down to press her tongue in. 

She’s slippery and open, and Melanie closes her eyes to savor the taste. She moves it in as far as she can, presses up and down, moves like she’s trying to pull as much wetness from her cunt into her mouth as she can. 

She pulls her tongue out to groan, “Taste so fucking good,” before pushing it back in and continuing. 

“So fucking good,” Georgie echoes. “God, so good, Melanie, you’re so good— _oh, fuck,_ that’s— _yes,_ God, just like that.”

When she’s not rambling streams of praise, she’s letting out soft, breathy moans, and—although they are fucking lovely—they aren’t what Melanie is angling for. She wants to hear that high, choked-out gasp. 

When she moves her thumb up to press at her clit, Georgie’s whining sigh turns into a less pleasured and more urgent “ah, ah,” and Melanie backs off, pulling her mouth away. 

“Alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, great,” she pants. “Just not directly on it, yeah? Too sensitive.”

“Got it, sorry about that,” Melanie says, and shifts her thumb up higher, over the top. 

“’S fine, y— _ohh,_ ” Georgie groans, her sentence abandoned halfway as Melanie begins rubbing slow, tiny circles against her. “ _Melanie._ Right there, yes.”

Her voice is slowly rising in pitch, which, _excellent,_ that was what she’d been hoping for. She moves her tongue more insistently, and revels in the way Georgie’s grinding herself ever so slightly onto her mouth, like she’s trying to hold back. She closes her eyes and lets herself just revel in the taste, the heat, and the sounds filtering from above.

She speeds her thumb up a tiny bit. Georgie’s thighs tense around her, and Melanie is reminded of just how fucking soft she is, everywhere, and she needs to touch all the skin she can reach. She moves her free hand back, around to the outside of her thigh, and runs it down her leg as far as she can reach before going back up, around, lingering on the dip of her waist and squeezing. She slides back up to brush over her nipple again, which results in a whine and Georgie’s hips thrusting up into her face.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, but Melanie ignores her, diving back in with more purpose and vigor than before. 

“ _Fffuck—_ ” Melanie’s thumb is moving harder and faster now, and she rolls her nipple around between her other thumb and finger. The noise Georgie makes is almost a sob.

Melanie is so turned on she wishes she had something underneath her she could rub on, but that’s a secondary focus. Mostly she wants to make Georgie come, make those strong soft thighs press tight around her, make her arch and shake apart like she’d done for her. She presses her tongue as far into her as she can manage, and Georgie’s hands fly to her hair, yanking, holding her in place. Melanie moans loudly against her.

The vibration must be what finally pushes her over the edge—Georgie gasps, and then goes silent and tense for a second before releasing a long, high string of moans, and Melanie keeps up the movement on her clit as well as she can through it. With her hands holding her in place by her hair all she can do with her mouth is hold still and let Georgie grind against it as she comes.

With a final “Ah,” she releases Melanie’s hair, and lets her arms fall bonelessly above her head. Melanie gives her one last playful pass of her tongue, and she twitches. “Jesus, Melanie,” she breathes. “Give me a second.”

Melanie laughs and wipes her mouth. “No rush,” she says. “It’s fine if you’re done.”

“I’m done with me, not with you,” she says, sitting up, and the sharp smirk she gives her catches Melanie’s breath.

She grins and leans in. “It was a good one, right?”

Georgie laughs. “I, ah. Am _really_ into that lip piercing,” she says, and Melanie laughs back, and kisses her again.

Something in it is more urgent, this time, at least for Melanie. She’s already dripping and desperate again. 

“What do you want,” Georgie says against her lips. 

“Touch me,” Melanie says. “Let me rub off against you?”

Without so much as a _say please,_ Georgie reaches down and presses her hand against Melanie’s cunt. Melanie moans, hips already grinding, though there’s nothing filling her this time.

Georgie presses the heel of her palm against her clit. “Good?”

“Good,” she whispers, and Georgie drops her head down to kiss her neck.

“Love the way you move,” she whispers, and Melanie realizes that with the angle her head’s at, she’s got a perfect view of where her hand is pushing against her. She moans at the thought. Georgie’s free hand squeezes lightly at her breast.

Melanie’s eyes fly open, and she grabs Georgie by the sides of her head, pulls her off her neck, and looks her in the eyes. “Kiss me,” she orders. 

Georgie does, maintaining the pressure of her palm. The combination of that and her warm, firm mouth are almost enough for Melanie, but then Georgie drifts her other hand up from where it was on her chest. She presses her thumb ever-so-slightly into the dip at the center of her collarbone, and Melanie comes for a second time. 

Her mouth drops open, breaking the kiss, but this time Georgie doesn’t move down to her neck, instead pulling back just enough to watch her face. Melanie is just as vocal this time around, and once it’s over she lets out a deep, contented sigh. 

“God,” she says simply, and Georgie laughs and flops down next to her.

It’s probably just post-orgasm endorphins. At least that’s what she tells herself when she reaches over and grabs Georgie’s hand, then presses a kiss to the back of it. 

Georgie’s smile is gently surprised, and then just gentle; she reaches over to brush a loose strand of hair behind Melanie’s ear before sitting up. “I’ll go get us some water, yeah? Toilet’s all yours if you wanna clean up.”

After she’s done, and they’ve both had their glasses of water, Melanie suddenly realizes she doesn’t know what comes next. 

“Well,” she says, and then flounders for a second. “I guess I should probably get going.”

“You should stay,” Georgie says, and then turns away, blushing a little. “I mean, you can go if you’ve got somewhere to be. But you’re free to stay, if you’d rather.”

Melanie blinks. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s late. I have a spare toothbrush. And I—I want you to.”

Melanie’s heart is doing that odd thing again. She pushes it down, and nods. 

  
  


Melanie wakes up the next morning slowly, frowning against the sunlight that usually doesn’t reach from her window. And then she processes the strong arm wrapped around her back, the soft, warm body pressed to her front, and remembers that it’s not her window.

Awake now, Melanie blinks down at the top of Georgie’s head, buried in her chest, and just watches the near-imperceptible rise and fall of her breathing. The rhythm of it is mesmerizing. 

There’s that strange feeling bubbling in her gut again. Georgie’s just so...sweet, like this. She’s always at least mostly sweet, but now, the solidity of her is less of a thrill, and more of a comfortable, grounding thing. She wants to fall into her. She wants—

Slowly, before she can stop herself, Melanie lifts her arm from where it’s slung over her shoulder, and tucks a curl behind Georgie’s ear. 

Then she shifts, and Melanie snatches her hand back. 

_Shit_. She goes to the kitchen to wait for her to wake up. 

  
  


A cup of coffee and one surprisingly good omelet later, Melanie finally says goodbye, with a cheeky and very pointed _thank you for having me,_ and heads back home.

On the tube, she gets a text. 

**Georgie👻:** you’re providing the drinks next time btw :)))

 _Shit,_ she thinks again, grinning, and goes to search for that particular brand of dark beer.

  


**Author's Note:**

> well hey! this was my first time writing porn I almost died! hope you enjoyed my quest to bring this fandom some more non-gross femslash pls leave comments and kudos if you liked it bye


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